


Ease

by lilacskies_17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry, Healer Draco, Humor, M/M, Powerful Harry, confusing feelings, patient harry, slow burn?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-05-29 06:50:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15067544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacskies_17/pseuds/lilacskies_17
Summary: They did not pay him enough to put up with this shit. Brains and blood? Easy peasy. Crazy old women and wild hexes? Draco didn't even bat an eye. But Potter? Crazy, idiotic, insufferable, charmin- annoying Potter? Draco would rather have another old witch claim him.





	Ease

Draco had been in the hospital for approximately 10 minutes when the door to his office had burst open and a young intern - Matilda? - all but ran in, informing that his presence was requested in the Intensive Care Unit for Magical Mishaps on the Auror floor. 

He apparated, deciding that if some intern had burst into his private office, the issue must be important. 

The floor was a mess. Granted, it was usually buzzing with people after a raid, but this, this was something Draco hadn't witnessed before. Frantic healers ran past him, some of them covered in bodily fluids and potions, others nearly drenched in blood. It was chaos. People ran past him without seeing him, all of them intent of getting to where they needed to be. 

"Healer Malfoy, into the operating room _now_!" Someone bellowed and he slid on his mask of indifference, his heart already beginning to beat wildly with adrenaline. It wasn't often that they had to rush someone into the operating room, what with several spells and charms at their disposal. In fact, it was a room they only used when a person was so severely injured that their bodies would respond badly to magic, or when they had to remove something that would have an unknown reaction to magic. 

As he rushed into the room and into the awaiting scrubs, Draco caught sight of a mop of wild ginger hair - hair that belonged to only one Pureblood family. 

"He's ready, Mr. Malfoy," the other healer informed him, distracting him, and he nodded tersely. Surely he had been mistaken. There had to be other ginger Aurors. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he strode into the operating room, the machines and muggle equipment already laid out for him under the glaringly bright lights. 

His stomach sank further when he caught sight of a mess of dark hair but he quickly banished that thought. It simply couldn't be possible. There were plenty of other Aurors with dark hair.

Loads of them, probably.

"We just need you to open the chest cavity, Malfoy," his superior barked, but Draco could sense the fear and apprehension in his voice. "I can handle the rest." 

Draco only nodded, swallowing audibly. Opening the cavity was the hardest part, requiring great precision and enough force to break the necessary tissue and muscle without injuring the patient and causing further injuries. It wasn't something he did often but admittedly, he was the best at starting the procedure. 

The only difference was that this time, he was fairly certain he knew who was lying on the operating table. He pretended that his hands weren't shaking as he dug the blade into the pale flesh.

~

Draco tried to focus on the paperwork he had strewn around his desk but the words all blurred together, none of them registering in his mind as he thought of the man in the operating room 6 floors above. He had been dismissed fairly quickly and discarded all of his protective clothing but the stench of blood seemed to cling onto him. It was strange at first, he had been covered in blood and bodily fluids more times than he could recall but they had never stayed. 

But then he realized that it was Potter's blood that had been on his hands. Potter's life that they were trying to save. 

It made him feel uneasy, knowing that Potter's health was in such peril that it required Muggle techniques. Sure, it had been months since he'd last seen him and years since they'd last _talked_ but this was _Potter_. 

The boy who had been a large part of Draco's childhood, the young man who had defeated the Dark Lord and saved the Wizarding World, the man who had spoken up for Draco. The man who was currently fighting for his life. 

He was an idiotically brave, oblivious git but Draco was still worried. You can't go through a good chunk of your life obsessed with someone without coming to care for them. Not that he would ever admit that he was ever obsessed with Potter, much less that he cared for the man. 

He glanced up at the clock, wincing when he noticed that it was 2 in the morning. It had been half past nine when Draco had left the operating table. There must have been some progress made by now. Hell, Potter was probably already in his room recovering and no one had bothered to tell Draco because, well, why would they?

Draco stood before he realized he'd made up his mind. He would do his rounds and if he ended up in the Auror ward, well, that would just be a coincidence. 

~

"Healer Malfoy!" Someone was calling for him and Draco had to close his eyes and breath in slowly. It would not do well to lose his temper now. Not when he had somewhere to be - someone to secretly check on. 

He turned slightly, surprised to see the Head Healer making her way towards him. He had only seen her a handful of times, and she always looked the same - hair wrapped in a bun, shoulders back, gait confident, her expression caught between a grimace and a soft look. 

She was as brilliant as she was intimidating and had he not been as bent as a circle, he might have had a crush on her. 

"Yes, Healer Auburn?" 

"I'm assigning you to our newest high profile case," she informed him curtly - always straight to the point - and urged him to follow her to the elevators. Once inside, she cast a _Muffliato_ and turned to regard him. "Considering your history with our newest resident, I do believe you'll be able to manage him without being rendered an incompetent, star struck fool." 

He merely raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Had the team he left upstairs joined the Potter fanclub so soon?

"Absolutely," he agreed readily. He had no problem knocking the Chosen One down a peg or ten. Even better if it made him look good in the eyes of his superior. 

"Just as I thought. Half of your case load will be handled by Jenkins. Here we are. You are to record his vitals every two hours until he wakes up."

With that, she more or less shoved him out of the elevator and onto the Auror floor, where a young Healer handed him a rather thick case file. 

"He's in room IC7," she murmured, her eyes downcast and wet. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes - yes, the Golden Boy was in the hospital, there was nothing new there - and yet the level of familiarity that they were treating Potter with was absurd. He was nothing but a patient, a famous one, but a patient nonetheless. 

"Thank you, I can manage now," he replied gruffly, exhaustion beginning to weigh him down as he glanced at his watch. 3 AM. Perfect. 

Intensive Care Room 7 was a private room reserved for the more severe, private cases and thus was slightly nicer than the usual private rooms. Nothing flashy but there was a tan couch against the west wall and an ensuite bathroom - two things that most other rooms lacked. 

Slumped on the chair next to the bed was none other than Ronald Weasley, looking as haggard and tired as Draco was feeling. He hardly noticed Draco, his eyes trained on his best friend and soon, Draco understood why. 

Harry Potter didn't look like Harry Potter. 

He looked worse than when he had shown up at the Manor. His skin was gaunt and pale, his cheekbones far too sharp to be healthy, his eyes sunken into his skull and the bags under his eyes looked like bruises. It wouldn't have surprised Draco if they were actually bruises because as far as he could tell, Potter's body was beaten black and blue, dark bruises blossoming alongside his jaw, over his bony arms, and some on what could be seen of his chest.

He swallowed harshly, wondering how he had missed all of this when they had been in the operating room. Perhaps a glamour charm to keep the other Healers from panicking? 

Feeling slightly out of place, Draco approached the bed and waved his wand over Potter's limp figure, fighting to not let his surprise show at the badly healed scars along his forearms. The gown he was currently wearing hung loosely on his figure and Draco was positive that if he lifted it, he'd be able to count every rib on Potter's body. 

Perhaps becoming involved in this case hadn't been the best decision after all. Healers were usually advised against becoming involved in family cases and though Potter was the furthest thing from family, Draco still felt deeply uncomfortably seeing Potter look so broken when he had been viewed as a beacon of strength and hope for so many. Draco included. 

The results finally on parchment, Draco settled into the chair on the opposite side. 

"What happened?" He questioned, his tone detached but his voice gentle. Ron, to his credit, only gave him a wary glance before looking back at Potter. The story seemed rehearsed, as if he had repeated the story over and over, so much so that he had no qualms about telling it one more time. And to a Malfoy, surprisingly. 

"A month ago, we were on a raid. A dark magic fanatic, you know, with the same ideals as - as You-Know-Who," Ron explained, his eyes going glassy. "We thought we had cornered him but we walked right into his bloody trap. Harry - Merlin, he managed to throw me out of the way."

Draco's stomach clenched painfully as the ginger retold the story, his lips tightening when Ronald's eyes went teary and his voice wobbled. He had never been good at comforting people. The mere thought of having a gangly ginger man sobbing in front of him had his stomach turning. 

"I was thrown to the ground. We didn't have backup, I- Harry was so sure we'd be able to manage. He took him and apparated before I was able to right myself. Bloody good Auror I am, huh?" he questioned sarcastically, a bitter hint to his tone that Draco recognized as self loathing. 

They sat in silence for a few seconds, Ron too immersed in his thoughts to say much else and Draco unsure of what he could possibly say. Thankfully he was saved from having to respond by a Healer opening the door. 

"Auror Weasley, the Head Auror wants to talk to you. You may come back tomorrow during visiting hours," she reminded him. As if he would listen to the rules - as if the rules actually applied to any of the Golden Trio. 

"Malfoy?" He asked suddenly and caught off guard, Draco turned to look at him in surprise. "Take care of him, yeah?" 

He sounded so vulnerable, so terrified that Draco couldn't bring himself to reply in his usual snarky manner. 

"Of course, Auror Weasley." 

Intense blue eyes met his and seemed to search them for a few seconds before the ginger nodded thankfully. Without another word, he stepped out and into the hallway, trailed by the Healer who had summoned him. 

Looking at Potter, Draco could understand his worry. If it were anyone else, he doubted they'd recover. But this was Harry Potter, the boy who lived who knows how many times. 

He would survive. 

Sighing, Draco opened the case file. He might as well read up on the extent of his new patient's injuries and the story that had been disclosed to the hospital staff. 

~

For 4 days and 5 nights, Harry Potter did not wake up. 

Draco was often in the room, filing out paperwork as visitors bustled in and out - mostly Weasleys & Hermione Granger as well as a young man Draco didn't know. On the fifth day, when Draco had taken his usual spot on the chair to the left, a soft groan had him jumping up within seconds. 

Green eyes opened lazily, blinking up at him once, twice before they fluttered shut again. Draco administered the needed potions and lessened the drip that was providing Potter's body with morphine before settling back down, his eyes on his paperwork but his heart beating painfully in what many would call relief. 

~

"Mal-?" 

"Yes, Potter," he reassured shortly, levitating a cup of water up to Potter's lips. He drank eagerly, licking his cracked lips when he was finished. As Draco continued running through the standard procedure of checking Potter's body, he found himself fumbling as intense green eyes remained glued on him. 

Draco was good under pressure. He wasn't good under Potter's scrutiny. 

"What?" He finally snapped after failing to check his body temperature for the 3rd time. 

"I... It's good to see you, Malfoy," Potter murmured silently, his emerald gaze smoldering and intense as he kept his eyes locked on Draco's. Really? _Really_? Out of all the possible things to say after what, a decade of not talking to each other, _that_ was what he wanted to say?

"You've seen me plenty, Potter," Draco couldn't help but retort. It was true, as well. They saw each other every few months, always sharing that somewhat awkward yet polite acknowledging nod. So, truly, there was no need to spout off unnecessary niceties - Draco wasn't planning on killing his newest patient. To his surprise, Potter smiled ruefully, a small, sad smile that reflected the pity in his eyes. It made Draco's blood boil. 

Because truly, what did Potter have to pity? Draco was doing fine, in fact, he was doing absolutely fucking _fabulous_ before he had come in the night before only to be assigned to this case. If anything, Draco should pity him, considering his poor health - Merlin knows what he had been through. 

The file he had read through didn't provide much, just that Potter had been abducted and tortured for close to a month, with very... creative spells. Lesser wizards would have perished, undoubtedly. But not the boy who apparently couldn't die. 

Not that Draco _wanted_ him to die. 

He continued the procedure, his magic no longer faltering when Potter - the blasted _idiot_ \- kept on ogling him. 

"It's not the same, though, is it?" He asked quietly, his voice so low that Draco strained to hear it. And maybe it was his absolute boredom after being cooped up for so long or maybe it was the mere fact that Draco never really got over his Potter obsession but he found himself replying nonetheless.

"What, pray tell, is not the same?" 

"Seeing you - I mean, like... actually, forget I said anything. It was stupid," Potter huffed humorlessly, a light flush on his cheeks. 

"Most things that come out of your mouth are stupid," Draco teased dryly, "so this shouldn't be any different." 

Only after the words were out of his mouth did Draco wish he had a time turner. Did he really just _tease_ Harry sodding Potter? For Merlin's sake, they were ex-rivals, on opposite sides of the war, they weren't acquaintances much less _friends_ who teased one another. He wished he could shove the words back into his mouth, or at least obliviate the git of the last few minutes. 

They stared at one another for a few tense seconds, both of their eyes wide and disbelieving until slowly, Potter's lips turned up and then he let out a sound that startled Draco. He could only stare as Potter continued to - snort? No, he wasn't exactly snorting...

Potter was _laughing_? 

Draco had seen him laugh before - across the great hall, or sometimes, when the Prophet was particularly lucky - but never had he seen him laugh in person. It was _nice_. Surprisingly so. It was deep and carefree and so warm that Draco wanted to wrap himself up in the sound because it made him feel _happy_ too. 

He found himself wanting to hear that sound more, and see those emerald eyes light up with joy because Merlin knows they both could use the happiness after all they'd been through. 

Catching his thoughts, Draco scowled. He was a professional. There was absolutely no need to be thinking such thoughts about a patient - probably delirious with potions - expressing their glee. No reason whatsoever. 

It's not like Draco had been harboring secret feelings for said patient for the last couple of years. That was preposterous. 

"That was - ah - that was refreshing," Potter sighed, laying back against the pillows. "What are you doing?" 

"Checking how many potions you're on right now. Merlin, how high are you?" 

"Not high enough."

"Junkie." 

"Nah, just not fond of pain," he grimaced, shifting a bit. Once, long ago, Draco would have thought that he would have been the one to cause Potter pain, not to ease it. 

All traces of humor and teasing vanished as Draco slipped back into his healer mode. Potter was a patient, after all, and Draco had a job to do. 

"Where does it hurt?" 

"I'm fine," came the hasty reply and Draco rolled his eyes. 

"Potter, I'm your healer, you have to tell me where it hurts so I can stop it," he drawled, a tinge of annoyance creeping into his voice. 

"Will you kiss my boo-boos away, Malfoy?" He teased and Draco had to forcibly swallow because honestly, kissing Potter didn't sound so bad. 

"No," he said in a faux-sweet voice, "but if you're good, I won't hex your balls off. Now tell me where it hurts."

~

Potter had a lot of nightmares. In the two nights when he'd actually been conscious, his sleep had lasted 2 hours at most. He thrashed, he yelled, he nearly set his sheets on fire with a sudden burst of magic, but it wasn't unexpected. 

He was the savior of the wizarding world, had faced the Dark Lord when they were 17, Draco figured he had more than enough material to conjure nightmares from. But that didn't mean it was any less uncomfortable watching him toss and turn.

So on the third night, right before Potter went to sleep, Draco offered him a vial of Dreamless Sleep Draught. 

"So you can sleep," Draco explained after a few moments of silence. Potter continued to stare. 

"I sleep fine," he said finally, a slight frown on his features that caused Draco to gape at him. As if he hadn't been in the room for the past few nights. 

"Potter I've seen you wake up thrashing and screaming yourself hoarse, is that sleeping fine?" 

"Er, well, no, but I'm fine. Really, Malfoy." 

Rolling his eyes at the typical Gryffindor response - _really, would it kill him to admit that perhaps, he needed some help?_ \- Draco just sat on the chair next to his bed, depositing a pile of paperwork he needed to read through and sign on the bed, next to Potter's hip. 

It was about an hour later when Potter began to fidget and on impulse, Draco's hand shot out and rested over Potter's, his thumb occasionally running through over the slightly rough skin. It took a bit longer to get through the paperwork using only one hand but by the time he left some 4 hours later, Potter was still sleeping soundly. 

It's not like Potter would ever find out, anyway.

Really, Draco was just being the epitome of a good healer - offering solutions and comfort. It wasn't that he wanted to do it, Merlin, no. And so what if his heart was racing and his hand felt unusually warm? It could very well have been the symptoms of a fever. 

~

"Good news, you're - are those jello containers?" 

"No," Harry said around a mouthful of what Draco recognized as red jello. He narrowed his eyes dangerously, using his wand to levitate the cup away from his gluttonous patient.

"Christ, Potter, your sugar levels must be through the roof," he cursed as he moved to toss the offending container. It was then that he caught sight of 5 other little plastic cups littered around his bed, all of them suspiciously empty. Draco fought the sudden urge to slam his head into a wall. A nice, hard, brick wall preferably. 

He'd dealt with his fair share of difficult patients, just like any other respectable healer. Once, he had to deal with a senile 86 year old witch who insisted that Draco was her husband and had screeched bloody murder when she'd caught him tending to another patient. And on another memorable occasion, a wizard had sneezed mid-hex and turned Draco's hair neon green for 3 days. So yeah, he had plenty of experience with frustrating patient but Potter? Potter was on a whole new level. Hell, he was a whole other level.

"Where are you getting these from?" Draco demanded, gathering up the cups with a swish of his wand before turning his attention to Potter. Who, for all intents and purposes, looked as innocent as a baby crup, big eyes pleading with Draco.

"Where, Potter?" He ground out when the insufferable twit just smiled innocently. Draco rubbed at his temples, feeling the beginning of a headache forming. They did not pay him enough to put up with this shit. Brains and blood? Easy peasy. Crazy old women and wild hexes? Draco didn't even bat an eye. But Potter? Crazy, idiotic, insufferable, charmin- annoying Potter? Draco would rather have another old witch claim him. 

"I have no idea what-" a sudden pop cut him off and Draco whirled around only to come face to face - well, more like face to crotch - with one of the hospital elves: Toby. 

"You coerced one of the elves!" Draco accused, his eyes wide and disbelieving. 

"I did not! He offered!" 

"And you accepted!" 

"I was hungry." 

" _Potter_." 

"I was!" he defended stubbornly. He held out a hand and Toby, the poor, quivering little thing handed over another jello cup dutifully. "Thank you Toby. That'll be all for today." 

The confused elf wrung his hands and opened his mouth several times before his great, big eyes began to fill with tears. With a tearful gaze toward Draco, Toby apparated away and Draco snatched the cup away from Potter. He could feel guilty about reducing an elf to tears later. Much, much later.

"Is this what Gurtis lets you eat while I'm gone?" He questioned incredulously. 

Gurtis was the medi-witch who watched over Potter from dawn till mid-afternoon, only leaving when Draco came back to relieve her. She was a terribly kind witch with a glare to rival Snape's. A force to be reckoned with, truly. 

"No, but that's why you're my favorite healer," Potter replied cheekily. Draco rolled his eyes, pretending that his heart wasn't beating a little faster than normal. Maybe he'd need a potion soon, what with his fever symptoms worsening. 

~

"Potter!" Draco nearly shouted in the corridor, satisfaction coursing through his veins when Potter froze. He remained frozen for approximately 2 seconds before grabbing his walking stick and trying to hobble his way out of the hallway.

" _Potter_ ," he nearly growled and strode to where the idiot stood. Potter had been awake for 6 days now, 2 of which he spent sneaking out of bed and hobbling his way around into other wards. 

"For Merlin's sake I stepped out for 5 minutes!" 

"Oh hey Malfoy, fancy seeing you here," Harry greeted, inching his way along the wall. 

"Yes. A total _surprise_. Not like I spent the last 10 minutes tracking you down because you're in a bloody hospital on bed rest. Did you know, Potter, that bed rest usually means _resting_ in your fucking _bed?"_  

Draco hooked his arm around Potter's free one, tugging him back to the elevators. 

"Really?" Potter questioned, "I always preferred my bed rest with a little bit of walking. Gives my bed a rest, you know?" 

At that, Potter began to chuckle at his own joke and Draco glanced at him, wondering if Potter had somehow gotten his hands on more drugs. Or potions. 

"What?" 

"Do you always laugh at your own jokes?" 

"Er, yes? I'm the funniest person I know," Potter responded easily, as if confused by the possibility of not laughing at his own, sad jokes. 

"Merlin, your group of friends must be miserable," Draco murmured, shoving Potter into the elevator unceremoniously. 

~

When Potter jerked awake, Draco sat up, his back protesting at the abrupt movement. 

"What is it this time, Potty?" He drawled, snatching up his wand and wandering over to the bed, ready to administer the usual diagnosis charms, his heart dropping when Potter didn't reply with his usual sarcastic comment. Instead, a sheen of sweat covered his already pale skin and his eyes were open wide but moving wildly, frantically, his breaths coming in sharp, short little gasps. 

A second passed before Draco summoned a calming draught, his hand shaking slightly as he tipped the vial into Potter's parted lips. 

He waited for the potion to take effect, one of his hands brushing away the dark hair that had stuck onto Potter's forehead, whispering soothing words to him. 

"Alright?" he whispered when Harry seemed to breath normally, his eyes back to the bright green he had become so accustomed to seeing. Potter only nodded jerkily, his fingers curling around Draco's wrist, keeping his fingers in the impossibly soft, dark hair. 

Draco's breath caught, and he cursed inwardly. Sure, he'd used the soothing gesture before, but usually those patients had been under the age of 12. He forced himself to continue petting Harry's hair, until the brunet's eyelids fluttered shut and his breathing evened out. 

After casting the usual spells, Draco slumped down on the chair next to the hospital bed. Maybe the fever was making him delirious. Was shortness of breath a symptom? He was pretty sure it was. 

He choked suddenly. There were many symptoms to fevers, he knew that, but calling one's childhood nemesis by their first name wasn't one of them. Oh Gods. Of course this would happen to him. Sure, he didn't say his first name out loud but mentally referring to him as Harry was a big no-no, as far as Draco was concerned. 

He watched Potter sleep, taking in the dark lashes, the full pink lips, the scar that made him famous, marked him as Harry Potter. He was handsome, from a purely objective viewpoint and Draco hadn't been in a relationship for nearly 2 years. It was just natural that he would be attracted. Anyone with eyes would be attracted to him. 

Just one more week until Potter was released and then Draco could move on and fix his attention on someone else. It was just the lack of intimacy and the sudden proximity that had him reacting - he was sure of it. 

When Potter's face began to scrunch up in agony again, Draco laid his hand over Potter's and settled his head down beside his hip. He sighed softly. Yes, he was lonely, but being with Potter made him forget what loneliness even felt like. 

~

"So what's it like?" Potter asked suddenly. He was leaning slightly on Draco, the two of them on a stroll around the magical garden, a stroll that had been ordered by Gurtis, who coincidentally, doubled as Potter's physical therapist. She insisted that Potter had to get used to walking without his cane - on which Draco called complete and utter bullshit. 

The conniving witch was probably off cackling somewhere, always thinking she was so cunning for forcing Draco into uncomfortable situations. 

Potter was doing fine last time he checked. In fact, he had somehow wandered onto the rooftop the other day just fine. He had his cane with him, of course, but eventually he would wean off it. There was no need for this stroll - correction, there was no need for _Draco_ to be on this stroll. 

They were at a bloody hospital for Merlin's sake, if Potter tripped and fell, they could patch him up with a spell or two and send him on another walk. 

"What's what like?" he replied instead, slowing his pace once more, stopping completely when Potter sat down on a bench. 

"Being a healer. Can't imagine it's always a walk in the park," he joked, gesturing around them. Draco rolled his eyes, willing himself not to laugh because Potter really didn't need to think that he was actually funny. And it wasn't a _park_ , it was a _garden_. 

"It's fine, I suppose. Keeps me occupied." 

"Do you... do you like it?" 

"Do you like being an Auror?" 

"I.. er, yeah, I reckon I do. Paperwork's a bitch, though." He confided, a tiny smile gracing his lips before he frowned slightly again. "But why a healer, of all occupations?" 

"What is this, an interrogation?" Draco joked dryly. Potter only shook his head vehemently, 

"No, no. I just... wanna get to know the elusive Draco Malfoy." At that, Draco snorted. 

"I'm hardly elusive, just overworked." He paused for a second. "But to answer your question, I can't tell you one reason exactly. I suppose that it's... reassuring to know that I'm able to do some good. Those years... I was convinced that I had to be bad and that was all I would ever be. So if I can help some kid regrow his broken bones or simply cure the odd ache, that's enough for me. To prove that I'm capable of some good. Not as noble as you were expecting, I'm sure." 

"No. No, it was more noble than what I was expecting." Potter said quietly, staring at Draco with an indecipherable look that turned his stomach into molten lava. 

The sun was setting in the garden, magically, of course, and the last tendrils of sunlight set a fire to Potter's emerald gaze, eyes turning into gems that Draco knew were more valuable than anything in his vaults. He cleared his throat loudly. 

"We should get going. Come along now, scarhead," he added for the sake of animosity. He couldn't give into his sudden urges or newfound affection. They had simply spent time together - friends could do that, patient and healer could do that without it meaning something else. Draco was simply overthinking and making boulders out of pebbles. 

Potter had given no indication that he was interested. The Golden Boy was probably just bored out of his mind and wanted a distraction. 

He reminded himself of that firmly as they made their way back to the entrance, his mind whirling with doubts and possibilities and impossible scenarios. He needed to get a grip on himself. 

~

One night, on the 8th or 9th night of his hospital stay, Potter didn't sleep. Instead, he turned on his side and watched Draco, which in turn caused Draco to squirm internally because Jesus Christ, why was his gaze so unnerving? 

"What?" Draco finally snapped. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to floo home, have a nice, long shower (preferably with a wank thrown in but he wasn't picky), and fall into bed. But he couldn't because fucking Gurtis decided that today was perfect to be late to work so Draco was stuck babysitting until she decided to grace them with her presence. Needless to say, he was not happy. 

"Nothing," came a drowsy reply. 

"If it's nothing then stop staring at me."

"'m not staring." A pause then, "Thank you, you know, for taking care of me." 

Confused, Draco raised an eyebrow. "I hardly need your gratitude, Potter. It is my job, after all." 

"I, er, I know but still. And Ron may have told me about your conversation the other day." 

"Did he now?" Draco asked tiredly. When visiting hours started, Gurtis was the one who was watching Harry and by the time Draco would come in around 1, they were usually gone. Something for which he was very thankful - he couldn't imagine having to be in the same room as the Golden Trio. 

"Mhm," Harry hummed, his eyes slipping shut then snapping opening again. "Mal - Draco?" 

Suddenly, the exhaustion looming over Draco disappeared, his body filled with an adrenaline he had never felt before. It was as if he had been shocked by a lightning bolt, his whole body alight with some kind of energy that was forcing his heart to speed up crazily. 

"Yes?" 

"Will you - I mean, can you hold - er, do you... Nevermind," he muttered with a dry laugh. 

"I can see all those years of schooling paid off - eloquent as always Potter." 

"Oh shut it," Potter huffed with a tone that sounded an awful lot like fond exasperation. Too much like it, in fact. Draco didn't like it. It did funny things to his heart. 

"What were you going to ask me?" 

"It's nothing," he reassured in a voice that said it definitely was something. 

"I'll bring you a jello cup tomorrow if you tell me." He waited with baited breath as Potter mulled the idea over. It was a bad idea to bribe Potter in the first place but Draco wanted to know what he was going to ask. He hated not knowing.

"Fine. I was going to ask if you could er,," he took a fortifying breath," if you could hold my hand?" 

"Hold your hand," Draco repeated slowly. He couldn't have heard right. There was no way that Potter wanted him to hold his hand. Him, Draco Malfoy, ex-Death Eater, childhood nemesis, to hold his hand. 

"It's just - well, er, I sleep better when you do," he trailed off and Draco's heart decided that that moment was perfect to make its descent from his chest toward his stomach, tumbling down because, well. Potter knew. He knew that Draco had been holding his hand at night and he was _requesting_ it now. 

Gods, he didn't know which part sounded more ridiculous. 

"I - I suppose I could," he replied stiffly, because what else could he say? _'No Potter, I will most definitely not hold your hand now that you know I've been doing it?'_

He settled in his usual chair, but before he could rest his hand over Potter's, Potter turned his hand and tangled their fingers together. Tentatively, gently. Emerald eyes met grey eyes in a silent question and Draco only gave a tiny nod before his gaze shifted to something less intense - their joint hands. But maybe that was worse.

Draco stared, shocked. His hand had been over Harry's plenty - nearly every night since the 3rd night - but he never got to see how they fit together. 

They weren't like puzzle pieces, man-made to fit one another, no. They were more natural. Clicking together rather than forced together. Complimenting one another, balancing each other out. 

He huffed. He was too much of a poet sometimes. They were simply two people, nothing more and nothing less. He could've held hands with anyone else. 

 _But no one else's hands would've fit as well_ , his brain quipped unnecessarily. 

Shaking those thoughts out, Draco settled down in his usual position - his head resting near Potter's hip. He watched as Potter's breathing evened out, how his chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern, and unknowingly, his eyes began to droop shut as well. 

\---

Draco's back ached horribly. And someone was staring at him. 

Blearily, he opened his eyes and decided that he had died sometime during the night and woken up in hell because there was a pair of green eyes already on him. It was too bloody early for this. 

"Good morning," Potter greeted shyly, his slightly fuller cheeks dusted with a pink tinge.

Fuck. Had he stayed the whole night? Where was Gurtis? And why was he still holding Potter's hand?

"Likewise," Draco drawled, his voice rough with disuse. Merlin, he could use a shower. He stood slowly, untangling his fingers from Potter's and groaning when his back cracked. He was too old to be sleeping half slumped in chairs. 

"I'm going to go find Gurtis," he said, avidly avoiding Potter's gaze lest he do something truly stupid. 

"Alright. Bring me the jello cup you promised," he shouted as the door shut behind Draco. 

\---

When he found Gurtis, she was in the lounge, her wand mixing her tea lazily as she flipped through _Witch Weekly_. 

"Look what the kneazle dragged in," she smirked when she caught sight of him in the doorway. 

"Gurtis, would you mind explaining why you didn't switch off with me?" He sighed, exasperated, as he pulled down his own mug and began to make his tea. He didn't have time to engage in mundane conversation - especially when she was insinuating what he thought she was. 

"You and the Potter boy seemed awfully cozy," she said slyly, her greying eyebrows waggingly suggestively. Of course the old witch was going batshit crazy. 

Draco raised a brow, his heart beginning to thunder in his chest. "I haven't the faintest idea of what you're referring to." 

"You know, he won't let anyone touch him," she quipped, her eyes suddenly sharp and far too knowing. 

"Is that so?" he hummed, feigning disinterest. He was very much interested, though. Potter didn't like being touched? That didn't make sense, though, he had _asked_ Draco to touch him the night before. Hell, the git slept better if he was being touched.

"Well, apparently there's exceptions. During our therapy sessions he won't let me touch him. Won't even let the medi-witches bathe him, he does it himself. So imagine my surprise when I walk in and see him not only sleeping, but letting someone touch him." Suddenly, Draco was regretting confronting the witch. The look in her eyes made him feel like a little boy again, getting caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing. 

Which was completely insane, considering he hadn't done anything bad, per se. He had simply been providing comfort to a patient who had requested it.

"I still fail to see why you didn't wake me and relieve me of duty," he sniffed haughtily at which she eyed him critically. Yes, he was definitely regretting it now.

"Healer Malfoy," she snapped, "tell me, what would you do if you had a trauma patient who slept no more than 4 hours and refused to be touched? Or better yet, what would you do if said patient was suddenly sleeping through the night and letting someone touch him? Would you interrupt his peace?" 

"I... I suppose I wouldn't." 

"I know you wouldn't. Merlin, that boy won't even let his best friends touch him, imagine my surprise when I walked in this morning," she snorted, looking at him over the rim of her cup - studying him. 

It was unnerving, the way he felt that she knew what he was thinking, that she could somehow see how his heart was panicking, that she knew everything that Draco was feeling. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and it was not a feeling he enjoyed. 

He himself didn't know the extent of his feelings, whether they were genuine or not, and to think that some witch seemed to know more than him was setting his nerves on edge. He needed to escape.

Completely abandoning his cup of tea, Draco muttered some generic excuse before fleeing. It was cowardly, yes, but then again, he had not been sorted in Gryffindor. 

~

Draco was early. Much earlier than usual, at least. 

Which was why there were still visitors in the room. Well, one visitor. 

It was the man Draco had seen on the first few days - a man he didn't know. But he and Potter seemed to know each other very well by the looks of it. He was average looking with limp brown hair, thin lips, and dull brown eyes. His whole appearance screamed average and nondescript.

He was currently sitting on the bed, his hand seeming to reach out for Potter only to have the man in question recoil slightly and give the other man an apologetic grimace. Draco took a deep breath. As much as he wanted to flee, he had to check on Potter's vitals. That, and the jello cup was uncomfortable to hold. 

So Draco strode into the room and plastered a professional smile on his face. 

"Good afternoon," he greeted cordially before presenting the cup to Harry with a dramatic flair, "as per our agreement." 

A wide grin that looked downright uncomfortable spread across Potter's face as he reached for the cup. Draco had a feeling that he was happy to see more than just the cup of red gelatin, but that was neither here nor there. 

"And that's why you're my favorite," Potter smirked, his gaze holding Draco's for a second too long.

"Favorite?" The man repeated, looking at Draco with something akin to suspicion. It was a look Draco had gotten well acquainted with, especially after the war. 

"Oh. Favorite healer. Daniel, this is Draco Malfoy, one of my healers. Malfoy, this is Daniel Wallis-"

"His boyfriend," the man interrupted. 

Oh. Okay. 

He smiled again when he felt it falter. He had a job to do, and that job entailed examining his patient, not examining his feelings. Besides, it was far too late to do that. Maybe after a few shots of firewhiskey. Maybe never. 

"Pleasure to meet you. Now, if I may, I have to check your partner's vitals," he explained coolly, his professional persona slipping back into place. It had been stupid to ever let it down anyway. 

\---

Draco had been in the middle of enjoying a very nice cucumber sandwich when the chair in front of him was pulled out, making a horrible screeching noise in the quiet cafeteria corner. He raised an eyebrow, trying to seem unfazed by the fact that Daniel was apparently joining him for a late lunch. 

"Yes?" 

"I see no need to pretend, Healer Malfoy, so I'll cut to the chase. I saw how you looked at Harry and I advise you to keep your distance unless you want a complaint filed."

"A complaint," Draco drawled slowly, raising an eyebrow in question. 

"Yes. For inappropriate behavior toward a patient. I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure that it's against hospital rules." 

Draco scoffed, not believing what the man was accusing him of, "And what, pray tell, made my behavior _inappropriate?"_  

"Everything!" the man exploded, drawing a few curious glances, "or do you expect me to believe you hand deliver jello to all your patients?"

"I was only adhering to the conditions of an agreement between Mr. Potter and myself. An agreement which, if I recall correctly, does not include _you."_  

"I don't know what little game you're playing at, Malfoy, but either stop trying to seduce my boyfriend or I'll have to take matters into my own hands," Daniel threatened viciously, his voice nothing but a mere hiss. 

Merlin was it difficult to keep from rolling his eyes. Draco had lived with the Dark Lord and yet, this man was attempting to scare him? Incredible.

"Jealousy, Mr. Wallis, is a vile disease, and not one we treat here. If you're so insecure about your relationship, however, I can recommend a great therapist. If not, then please, refrain from interrupting my lunch again. Thank you," he replied shortly, his temper already frazzled because sick witches and wizards were a pain to deal with, good intentions or not. He was tired and hungry and this conversation had gone on for far too long.

Besides, he was intent on ignoring his feelings and being downright accused of trying to seduce a patient was working on the last bit of patience he had.

"I'm not-"

"Not what? Now, correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. _Wallis_ ," he said with as much venom as he could muster, "but I do believe you're accusing me of attempting to seduce your boyfriend. An accusation that has no grounds whatsoever and can be denied by both parties because it is simply _ridiculous_. I have known Mr. Potter for over a decade, do you honestly think I would attempt seduction when the man in question is in a hospital bed under my care? 

"Continue to make such accusations and I'll not only have you escorted from the premises but banned from visiting considering how much you elevated my patient's blood pressure. Now, I suggest you leave if you want to avoid further complications." 

At that, he plastered on his most polite smile and watched as the man before him began to fume. 

"This isn't over, Malfoy. I'll be keeping my eye on you." 

He watched the dull man retreat before shaking his head. Truly, Potter's choices had not improved over time. 

~

"Malfoy?" Potter's voice was quiet in the relative darkness of the room. Only one light remained on, casting a dim, soft glow in the sterile white room. Draco was sat on the couch, pretending to read while overthinking the confrontation with Daniel earlier that day. 

He had avoided returning to Potter's room for as long as he could but alas, all his other patients were asleep and he didn't fancy seeing who was hooking up in the lounge. 

"Yes?" 

"Can we - er, would it be okay if we- you held my hand again?" Potter stuttered, his face a shocking red even in the faint light of the room. 

He thought the words over. It wouldn't be okay, really. It wouldn't be okay for Daniel, who seemed to sense Draco's feelings and would surely do everything in his power to make his life a living hell. It wouldn't be okay for Draco either, because, well, he was the one with unprofessional feelings. He was the one who was slowly becoming fond of a certain bespectacled git and when said git would leave, Draco would be left missing something he could never seek out. 

He would just be ensuring his own pain and heartache. 

"It's just, well, I sleep better but it's completely okay if you don't want to, you're under no obligation and I already know I'm not exactly an easy patient to deal with so I would understand if-"

"Potter."

"Er, yes?" 

"Shut up and move over," Draco instructed as he stood up and made his way to the bed. He sat himself down on the usual chair and placed his head down a little more forcefully than he had intended to but the relief in Potter's eyes made the embarrassment almost worth it. 

Oh, he knew it would hurt when Potter left. It would hurt because he knew there was no chance of anything between them, that Potter would walk out with Daniel in his arms, and that Draco would be forgotten. 

But Gurtis had been right. 

He couldn't leave Harry to another night of fitful sleep and little peace. 

~

There were only 4 days left to go before Potter would be released. 

Draco realized that when he walked in the next afternoon and though he berated himself for it, he couldn't help the sinking sensation in his heart. 

It had only taken ten days for Draco to accept that maybe, just maybe, he had a little crush on the savior. Ten days was all it had taken to realize that Potter actually cared about other people, with his heart of gold and his need to help. A little less than two weeks to realize that although his jokes were terrible, Draco liked them because Potter was saying them. 

Ten days to realize that his life before Potter had been really more about surviving and going through the motions more than anything else. 

And yet, it had taken only a few hours to accept that his little crush could remain only that. 

It was a lot easier to accept that when he was annoyed with Potter, which he very much was at the moment. The nitwit wouldn't stay in bed unless they bound him to the mattress, and since that was "unethical," Draco was left with the responsibility of chasing him down. 

He had been scouring the hospital for the last 20 minutes - he may have stopped for tea and a biscuit or two - and still, there was no sight of Saint Potter. Draco scowled. He felt as if he was back at Hogwarts. 

And really, would it be that awful if he just let Potter wander back into his room? He could find his way back. Eventually. 

It was exactly what Gurtis had suggested as well, getting him to walk around - except this time, Draco wasn't coerced into the walk. 

"-so good with children, you know?" a medi-witch was saying as she walked onto the lift. Draco tuned into this conversation while running through the possible floors Potter could be on - which meant all of them. 

"It's a shame he doesn't have any of his own," the second witch lamented. And who else would they be talking about, sounding all dazed and starstruck, if not Potter? It had to be Potter. Of course it did. 

Judging by the soft pastel green color of their robes, Draco assumed they were from the 3rd floor - where all the infants were delivered and cared for.

They got off of the next floor and feeling more annoyed by the second, Draco smashed in the '3' button. 

He opened his mouth to ask the medi-witch where Potter was, but before he could get a syllable out, she was pointing him down the corridor, her eyes glinting with a knowing look that Draco wanted to jinx off. Instead he nodded in thanks. 

He deserved a medal for his care of Potter, really. Chasing him through the hospital, stopping him from eating his body weight in sweets, listening to his awful jokes, dealing with his unhealthily possessive boyfriend - all things that warranted a golden statue of him somewhere. 

He stumbled into one of the rooms, a pale yellow room with dancing magical beasts on the walls and around 6 beds. To no one's surprise, the beds were crowded with what was surely all the children on the floor. Potter himself was sitting on one of the beds, a toddler resting against his chest as Potter used silly voices to read out to them. 

Draco's heart melted. As in ice-cream-left-on-the-sidewalk-in-hell melted. Or chocolate-over-a-fire melted. Or totally, truly, completely fucked for Potter melted.

Two nurses were in the room, both of them watching with adoration and a bit of awe, as if not believing that Harry Potter, Savior of Everything, was sitting across from them, reading to a gaggle of children. 

Draco could hardly believe it himself.

The small child on Potter's lap had a mop of messy, dark hair and Draco couldn't help the desire to snort. Of course Potter would pick out the one that looked just like him. At his snort, Potter looked up, his slightly agitated look transforming into a blinding smile that had his thoughts flying out of the building and his heart stuttering to a completely new beat. 

Before he could decide whether to smile or not, the child looked up at Draco. He did have Potter's unmanageable bird nest, just as he had presumed. But he had light, steely grey eyes that could only rival his own. The little boy looked at from Draco to Harry's smile, and seeming to come to a conclusion, turned his wild locks and silver eyes and adorable, slightly gummy smile to Draco. 

He gave a shaky smile back. He must have looked panicked because Potter was frowning. Well, of course he was panicked! The child looked like... like - 

Like a mixture of Draco and Harry. Oh Merlin, he was going to be sick. 

Cheeks flaming and heart racing, Draco backtracked out of the room. 

There was no way that was a coincidence. There was no such thing as coincidences when it came to Harry sodding Potter. And if it was, then it was just the universe giving Draco a huge 'fuck you' because, why, why else? 

He felt trapped in a stupidly cliche muggle film, except that this couldn't have a happy ending. It was one of those sad muggle films where the dog dies at the end or something because nothing good can happen in Draco Malfoy's life. 

Straightening his shoulders, he sped down the corridor. Potter could find his own way back. 

~

It always seemed that when one was dreading something, that thing came a lot sooner than expected. 

In his 6th and 7th year at Hogwarts, Draco had always dreaded the holidays when they meant he had to go home, and they always arrived a lot sooner than he expected them. It was as though the school days flew by just to force him to face what he so desperately wanted to evade. 

This, however, wasn't nearly as dire or as life threatening. Draco's heart simply felt as if were made of glass. And had been dropped down 15 flights of stairs. And then run over by a dump truck. And then the pieces picked up and crushed into a powder so fine that it blew away with the wind. 

So yeah, he was feeling fine. Completely fine. 

He watched as Potter paced the room, his cane leaning on the bed, forgotten. 

"He should've been here by now," Potter was saying. He ran his fingers through his hair, grimacing when he came across a knot. 

"I'm sure he's just running late." Or at least Draco hoped he was. He hated the fact that Potter was leaving - it was a great thing that he was healthy enough to leave, but Draco had to grudgingly admit that he would miss Potter's presence - but he didn't know how much longer he could last without doing something stupid like hugging the git and begging him not to go. 

"It's been 3 hours, Malfoy." 

Ah. Yes. He'd been saying that Daniel was probably running late for quite a while now. He was surprised that it had been that long, actually. Huh. Maybe his self restraint was better than he thought it was. Three hours and Draco hadn't succumbed to the little monkey that was apparently in control of his brain when he was around Potter. 

"We're probably going to have to vacate soon. It won't be long before another one of your aurors comes waltzing in, bleeding out and pretending that they're fine," Draco advised dryly. It was true enough but the wince Harry gave made him regret ever opening his mouth. 

"Do - can I leave by myself?" 

"No. Someone needs to accompany you to your residence. Just to make sure you don't die when you step out of the floo." 

Draco knew he'd made a mistake as soon as he met Potter's gaze. Surely the idiot wouldn't think of actually inviting- 

"Would you, er, mind taking me? I don't fancy waiting any longer and Ron and Hermione should be on another continent by now," he explained, blushing bright red and ducking his head. He was embarrassed, that much was obvious. But it's not like Potter was inclined to ask anyone else, otherwise he would've sent a patronus or firecalled someone by now. Right? 

"I suppose," he said slowly. They had not moved an inch, yet Draco knew in the bottom of his little glass broken heart that this would not end well. He could feel it, the sense of impending doom. 

But well, Potter had the whole 'kicked puppy' expression down to a tee and Draco had always been partial to crups. 

They stood still for a few seconds more, regarding each other somewhat warily before Harry nodded firmly and motioned for Draco to follow him. 

"Er, so shall I go first?" 

"Preferably, yes," Draco hummed, staring at the floo with great trepidation. His shift had technically ended 30 minutes ago, he was no longer responsible for Potter - he could easily let someone else escort the savior of the wizarding world. Before either of them could say anything else, Potter was stepping through the green flames, 

"Number 12 Grimmuald Place!"

~

To be continued...


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